Abducted
by CaptainOldDog
Summary: Sometimes getting kidnapped is mandatory when you are a small sidekick and ward of a famous billionaire and dangerous vigilante. It's bound to happen at least a few times. The five times Richard was kidnapped and needed rescuing, and the one time he did the saving himself. Fluff and daddybats included.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Chapter 1**

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><p><strong>I'm only going to say this once, I don't own this stuff, I'm not in charge of DC.<strong>

**I have always wanted to do one of those 'five times' things, so here you go. This will consist of five parts, and a chapter will be posted whenever I get it done till it's over.**

**Keep in mind, that in this chapter Richard doesn't know Bruce is Batman, he is new to the manor. He will be older with every chapter though. I realize this might be better suited in the Comic Batman archive, but people are nicer in this area of fanfiction and I know the YJ archive has enough Batman and Robin fans.**

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><p><em><strong>Age 8: You always remember the first.<strong>_

The sound echoed as the hefty man strode into the room, his face covered by a ski mask and a pump-action shotgun at his side. His footsteps were steady and nearly covered the sound of distant traffic. He spit a blob of well used chewing tobacco on the concrete floor before turning his attention back to the kid tied to the chair in the middle of the room, slouching in his restraints like a slack puppet.

"You awake?" He got no answer, but the kid stirred and let out a feeble groan. "Poor Brat. You got all sorts a hell comin' atcha."

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><p>Richard didn't know where he was. He didn't know how he got there. He didn't know why his head felt like mouth felt like led. And though his head was too fuzzy to tell left from right, one thing was for sure, Richard was fucking terrified, scared to the point of dead silence. This wasn't the manor, this wasn't his room, and his guardian was no where in sight, or in Dick's case, earshot.<p>

Roped dug into his wrists and held his arms to the back of the chair, along with his feet to the legs. A sweaty black blindfold covered his eyes, but even he found the fact that he wasn't gagged odd. Did they want him to scream? He was still only barely conscious, and too scared to make a peep.

It probably wouldn't do him any good, he reasoned. If he was in earshot of somebody, he would be gagged. Dick took a deep breath, and tried to steady himself.

"Yo, Kid, Tony's got some bone to pick with you, better whip up some puppy dog eyes real quick here." The man taunted, but still Richard was too shocked to even yawn.

The name, however, struck. It poked into Dick's chest and pressed against his lungs. _'Tony Zucco. He's behind this.'_ The boiling pit of rage in his stomach threatened to explode at the thought of the man, the man that quite literally ruined his life only four months back. What was Tony planning to do?

It was a stupid question, even Richard, only a child at the tender age of eight, could tell that the man wanted to finish the job. The job he started back at the circus, when he sabotaged the act and Dick's whole family fell.

His eyes grew wet and tears bled into the blindfold. He pulled against his restraints subconsciously as if they'd be loose enough of to get free this time. He sniffled and fought to keep down whatever lingered in his stomach. The situation didn't seem real. This stuff only happened in movies and novels, not to real people, Dick told himself.

The kidnapper, clearly a member of Tony's gang, walked to Dick and exhaled, sending a puff of newly lit cigarette smoke into the child's face, making him cough feebly before the gas disbanded, telling Richard just how big the room was. He could hardly smell the smoke anymore. He was in an open area.

"No screaming, right? Good, makes the job easier on me. I hate hearin' 'em scream." The man said casually and flicked some ash of the end of his cigarette, acting almost like he wanted Richard to speak back.

Of course, Richard was still too petrified with fear to answer, or do anything more than pretend to be tough and sniffle and claw at the rope digging into his wrists.

_'Bruce._' He called out in his head, hoping the man would arrive any minute and whisk him away and find some way to fix everything. Thats what adults did, or, tried to do in most cases. Richard and Bruce weren't exactly on best-friend level, but over the past two and a half months they had bonded, forming a silent friendship, kinda like a family relationship. Not enough like a family relationship to replace his momma or papa. Dick wouldn't let that happen.

Bruce just _had to_ save him, he probably already called the police and looking for him. Or, so Dick told himself. In all reality his guardian, being the busy individual he is, might not have even noticed his wards absence. Alfred might think he was still in bed, too, but he wouldn't think about that. It hurt to think no one might've noticed yet.

All the extra variables and 'what if's made his head spin. Richard didn't even know if it was night or day, or how long he had been there.

"Hey, Kid." His captor poked him with the end of his gun, and even if it wasn't made to be threatening, it caused the eight year old to let out a strangled sob. A gross sob, the kind that shake your whole body so hard you're teeth hurt. "Woah! Kid," The masked man started, realizing his mistake, "don't ball like that, you're reminding me of my nephew, don't remind me of my nephew."

Dick heard the man move, and next thing he knew the man was lifting the blindfold off one eye and trying to shut him up.

At Least now, Richard could see, even if only out of one eye. The man, his captor, had a ski mask on, a cigarette in mouth, he looked about middle aged, slightly overweight, and really run-down. Haggard. His eyes showed that inside he was a tired man.

Richard sniffled again, his sobs dying down. This wasn't soooo scary.

The cement and asphalt interior told him he was in a parking garage, clearly one out of use, and in one of the upper levels. If he wasn't mistaken, he was in the old (out of use) one by the factories near the docks and down the street of the free clinic. Light poured over the little half-walls creating the edges. It couldn't of been any later than ten am, and Alfred and Bruce had to know of his would both be flipping their shit right now, he knew. They had to have been, Dick just might crumble in on himself if he found out they had forgotten about him or something like that. It was an irrational fear.

A little bird flew through the garage.

"Better?" The middle aged man asked and Richard nodded, releasing his captor wasn't all that scary.

"Can't believe Tony's doing this." The man said, more to himself than anything. "I do wish the best for you, I don't know why Tony feels the need to finish the job, he practically already got away with it."

The words weren't comforting at all, but it let Richard know this guy probably wouldn't kill him, but he didn't doubt he'd let someone else do the deed.

"Bruce." Richard dared to call out, this time out loud, letting his voice echo hopefully through the garage. He wanted nothing more than to go home, he hated being kidnapped, and he really needed a hug, preferably from Mom or Dad, but any familiar face would due. Birds chirped from outside, and the overweight gang member sighed and face palmed.

"Bruuuuce." Tears grew in his eyes again as he prayed for someone to come.

Someone did come, though it was the person he wanted to see least. His breath froze inside his lungs and he needed to remind his heart to keep breathing as the pattern of fancy shoes hitting stairs and then cement came. Tony Zucco himself showed, strutting proudly with a smirk, along with three other guys, presumably from his gang.

Richard couldn't help but feel pathetic when he let out another shuddering breath and more tears. _'You have to stop crying, you're too old for crying.'_

Dick's one free eye glanced at his foe. Tony was in most of a cheap suit, the jacket removed and pit stains already formed due to the early morning summer heat, a common thing in gotham. "Hey, Zucco, you sure about this?"

"Completely." He strode over to Dick pulled out a switchblade, dull and made more for show, but it could still inflict damage. He leaned down close, his coffee breath all Richard could smell. "Now listen here brat," he began quietly with a placid voice. "I always finish a job, ya hear?"

Inside Richard head he ran through a dozen different profanities that would fit the description of the man in front of him.

The men gathered behind their boss as if this was rehearsed. "You're going to do something for me. You should be six feet under, but you're not, and to make it up to me. You're gonna call up your guardian and ask for a few million or so, or else I'll poke," he motioned to a handgun sticking out of his pocket, "or shoot a few holes in ya, ya hear?"

His head bobbed in agreement, though something in the back of his head was telling him now was a good time to scream. Scream like a banshee, scream so loud everyone's ears split. Instead he just wet his lips as Zucco fished around in one of his suit pockets.

"Talk sweet now." Zucco pulled out a cheap little flip phone and pressed a few buttons before shoving it up to Richards ear. Richard just nodded again.

Someone picked up on the second ring, unlike how the phone usually rings till the third or fifth ring. It made Richard think he was waiting for a call like this. "Hello, Wayne manor-"

"It's me." Richards voice sounded weak and shaky, yet it came through stronger than most children would in this situation. A few of the gangsters began tapping their feet.

"Good Heavens! Master Dick, where have you been! We are worried sick, We have the authorities here and looking all over gotham-"

"I'm with Tony Zucco, put Bruce on please Alfred." Richard surprised himself with his ability not to stutter and remember his please and thank yous.

There was rustling through the phone line, muttering too.

Only second later, Alfred passed the phone to Bruce, and before his guardian could start talking, Richard did.

"Bruce! Zucco has me, he wants money, like, a couple million or something really really big. This is scary-He's mad I'm not dead! I'm at-" The barrel of a gun pressed against his temple, stopping him from giving away where he was, or, at least where he thought he was. His breath hitched and tears spilled over again.

"Kiddo!? Richard, hang on, relax, we're doing everything we can, I'll have the money, I need to talk to Zucco, I'll have it wired to his account, but I need to talk to him." Even the sound of his guardians voice calmed him down a bit.

Dick gulped and almost pleaded the man to talk to him more. _"Sniffle_... Okay Bruce." Zucco took the cell phone back.

Richard didn't follow what they were saying to each other at first, it was directions on how to give the money, but to the end, a few things stood out. "Every moment I don't get the money, he bleeds Mr. Wayne. You have till two, and if the money ain't in my account, he gets it."

"_Don't lay a finger on him_." Bruce's tone was icy and he sounded near murderous. Tony just closed the flip-phone and gave a dog-ish smile to his crew.

"Alright fellas, Reece is gonna call us on the other cell as soon as the money is there." He handed the flip-phone to a gang member. "Destroy it." He wasted no time in chucking clattering over the edge.

"You better hope I get a call soon, brat. It's nearly eleven already, and wiring money through accounts takes a while." The danger of the scenario sunk in once again, and with the new wave of fear there was a distinct feeling of rage in Dick's throat. Who does this guy think he is? What is his malfunction, this whole thing was just asinine. He wanted to tell his kidnappers that, but settled for shaking his head till the blindfold was off both eyes and giving them a death stare with icy blue orbs. Judging by the chuckle he received, it wasn't good enough.

He really needed a hug. He needed a comforting voice, a reassuring gesture. Instead Zucco pulled out the switchblade again, and simply held it in his hand till Richard stopped staring and forced his eyelids closed, refusing to open them.

He didn't know how much time passed in silence. It could've been twenty minutes, could've been an hour, but Tony Zucco grew bored. "I believe it is time to draw a bit of blood, nothing too drastic."

Dick's eyes snapped open and his heart hammered through his ears so loud the men closest to him had to have heard it. "No, no no, please don't." Richard pleaded tightly as Tony pushed the hand with the knife closer to his face. He struggled.

The man half snickered, a few of his groupies following lead and laughing themselves. Dick only reacted out of instinct, and bit the mobsters hand, clamping his teeth down as hard as he could and not letting go, not even when he tasted blood or felt a new loose tooth.

"You little shit!" Tony barked. His men backed up a bit at his outburst. Zucco brought his free hand, formed in a fist, and brought it down upon the child's head with one swift motion. The strength behind the punch rattled his teeth. "Brat!" The dull knife whipped across Dicks face, making his original captor, the one with a nephew, cringe and Dick nearly fall over in his chair.

The child coughed.

"You're gonna regret that." The mobster growled under his breath with feral, rabid sounds. The man took a few steps back and looked to see the damage inflicted to his hand. "Ya got strong teeth kid. A good bite."

Little dribbles of crimson leaked from a gash on Richards forehead, soaking through the blindfold and dripping into his left eye. He was quite literally seeing red. The knife, cheap and the kind of thing you'd see in movies, had torn and ripped more than sliced, and if Dick was correct, that was indeed better than slicing. Less blood.

Still didn't make it hurt any less, but out of every time to be brave, Richard chose now. He didn't cry or scream, he didn't even look Zucco in the eye. He kept a defiant look as Tony raised the knife again, this time bringing it to his neck, by his ear, causing an intake of breath out of his gang members, each beginning to fear he was taking this a bit too far.

Zucco grabbed Richard's face with rough fingers and tried to force him to look at him, but to no avail. The kid refused look him in the eye, he seemed to be

more interested looking at the half wall to the side and the dead cigarettes on the asphalt.

"_You. Dirty. Gyp. Look at me you son of a bitch!_" Zucco backed up a bit, restraining himself and cursing some more. His hand reached to his pocket a few times, but he was yet to grab what lay inside, knowing he couldn't kill him if he was for ransom. "You're... You will regret all o' that kid."

"Regret what?"

Then suddenly the shadow of another dwarfed Zucco's, shading the specific patch of flooring Dick had been paying attention to.

"I told you not to touch him." Richard's face lit up and Zucco's dropped, how did he get here? He didn't know, but Bruce Wayne was behind him seething with anger. He looked beyond pissed, elevated three, four times past that.

All four of Zucco's men attacked, growling like dogs. Two pulling out guns, one a knife, and the overweight one staying back but holding up his fists. Bruce, grabbed one, and twisted his arm in a weird angle till he dropped the knife, it clattered to the ground as Bruce delivered a swift kick to the head and knocked him out. One man shot, the sound bounced off the walls and swam in Dick ears, but the bullet missed over his shoulder. Bruce grabbed him by his collar and through him at the other, he jumped on them and through the guns away at once, then bashed their heads together, rendering the two of them unconscious and limp.

The older one hardly put up a fight, Bruce kicked him in the head, punched him in the stomach and tossed him aside before looking to Tony Zucco, who was sweating like a pig and about to run. One man... four of his men. He didn't believe it.

_"Holly shit!"_

Richard had never seen his guardian like this. Sure, he had noticed Bruce was in great shape for a billionaire and looked damn intimidating, but this was new. This was rage, and true power. Power Dick had wanted so badly after feeling so weak.

Tony Zucco never stood a chance, Bruce was on him in seconds, holding nothing back. There were short grunts and a few hollers before he too dropped to the floor, holding his head and falling silent. Dick could hardly take his eyes away from the mess of men on the floor.

After a minute of catching his breath, Bruce turned back to Richard, who was panting with blood dripping down his face and tears in his eyes. He looked wrecked, a dear caught in the headlights. Bruce knelt down and took one of the knives that one of the men dropped and used to to cut the ropes restricting Richard to a chair.

Bruce pulled the child into a tight embrace the moment he was free, for once enjoying the physical contact. Dick melted and cried into his shoulder, muttering incoherent little bits and pieces over sirens.

"Shhhhhh. Kiddo, it's all right, you're safe now." Bruce examined the cut on his forehead before deciding it wasn't serious and then rubbed little circles in his back. He was so worried, worried like he never had been. "I got'cha." The police were here, he could hear them coming up to this level.

Richard wiped his face, getting blood snot and tears all over his sleeve. "Never again, Bruce."

"Never again," Bruce agreed.


	2. Buried Alive

_**Age 10, buried alive.**_

He hit at yet another stop light, the older blue sports car rolled to a stop, along with the other four cars in the lane. Richard sat in the passenger seat, he was telling his guardian a hilarious story about some incident in the lunch room with a class clown. To be truthful, Bruce wasn't really listening, he was just happy Dick was happy, and if that meant pretending to listening to some story he couldn't follow then so be it.

"And then we went to one of the teachers, or, so we thought of was a teacher, and we told him what was happening in the lunchroom. He didn't do anything." The kid continued to talk, but Bruce paid more attention to the road. They guy behind him was tailgating big time. "Then he said, 'I'll be seeing you soon, Richard.' And it was so weird." Bruce only paid attention to the last bit, the words striking out as something odd for a teacher to say. "What do you think Bruce? Was that weird, what do you think he meant?" Bruce, now paying slightly more attention, shrugged. Something didn't settle right with that last sentence, but he just passed it on as, what Dick would call, bat paranoia.

"I don't know, buddy."

"So what is this surprise?" Dick asked eagerly. After work, Bruce had come home, got his mandatory greeting and then told his ward he had a surprise for them. The two had very little time to spend together, and Bruce knew he was neglecting the boy and that the kid got lonely, so he thought it a good idea to give him a treat.

This 'surprise' surprised even Alfred, who was pleasantly shocked Bruce was stepping up and taking a little fatherly control with his ward, even if it was just giving him a gift and a fun outing. The most time they spent together was during training or on rooftops, and not exactly prime bonding time. Richard never let that get him down though, he faced each day with some sort of smile regardless. It was only when Bruce saw the smiles fade and become hollow that it became apparent the boy's need for attention and companionship.

Alfred paled when Bruce first told him his idea and when his secretary first suggested it to him, he wasn't to keen on the idea either, but he remembered being a kid and this 'surprise' would be the coolest thing ever.

"I'm not telling you till we get there." Bruce taunted, like holding a piece of meat in front of an animal's nose. Richard squirmed in his seat and Bruce picked up the gas a little, growing a little more wary of the person behind him, who now switched to the other lane.

"Can I get a hint?" The child asked. Bruce pulled onto a old road leading outside of Gotham, along with a few other cars.

Bruce shook his head. "No, you'll guess it too easy then." The ten-year old sighed but smiled soon afterwards.

"Must be a good surprise if you're going this far to hide it, huh?" Richard smirked and struggled against his seatbelt.

"Yep, you'll love it." _'Even if Alfred and I won't.'_ It was one of those rare moments when both of them were happy, and when it was only to get better. Truth be told, Bruce didn't see his ward very often. Twice a week when Robin patrols, sure, but that was different. Life as a businessman was busy and sometimes, Dick just gets forgotten among all the work.

Bruce didn't want to do that to his kid. Sure, Alfred was there, but there was a big age difference and the butler could only do so much in the category of entertaining a child. When Scarlet, Bruce's secretary, came up to him the other day with the news of her dog having puppies, an idea sparked in the mans head. Bruce Wayne was far from a pet person. In fact, he was bound to dislike the thing, but if it made him feel just a little less guilty of leaving his ward so alone, then it was worth it. He couldn't wait to see the look on the child's face when they picked it up. Scarlet said she already had one picked out for them.

Dick pulled out the puppy dog eyes. "Could you _please_ give me a hint?" The kid was at a loss when he saw them pulling onto the highway.

"No, we're almost there anyway-" Bruce slammed on the brakes _hard_, as one of the four cars that had been driving with them since the city pulled out in front of them and slowed way down. Richard jolted forward, but caught himself from hitting his head on the dashboard.

"Bruce!?" Bruce reached the horrid realization, that the four cars that had been following him from the city we're out to get them. Bruce recognised that they were trying to box them in, to put one car to each side of them.

Luckily for Bruce, and unlucky for them, he's the Batman. He can drive the Batmobile upwards at two hundred miles per hour through the city and not hit anything. If he could just get out from behind them, they would be home free.

"Hang in there, buddy." _'This is bad, so bad.'_ Bruce jerked the car to the left to avoid being closed in by the final car, but was nearly rammed off the road by another. The stark realization that they really knew what they were doing, sunk deep. This wouldn't be easy. He was swerving all over the place as two of the cars, the vans, bounced him around the highway."Dick, there is a cell phone in here somewhere, I need you to find it and call the police, okay buddy?"

The child nodded briefly and started searching the glove box then the cup holders, but he turned up empty handed and feeling slightly sick due to all the maneuvers the car made.

"I... I can't find it."

"It might be in the back." One of the vans bumped them from behind. Richard nodded and unbuckled himself. With a glance from Bruce, he scrambled into the back seats, rummaging around for that stupid cellphone.

"I can't find it Bruce!" He called out, stress lining his voice.

Not seconds after Richard said that, the car took an extra big swerve and skidded off the road. It flipped several times over and landed on a rocky outcrop whith a whoomph. The beautiful view of the city went unnoticed as pieces of tire-torn earth rained down on the top of the car.

It was painful to see the child flung around like a rag doll in the vehicle, especially when Bruce knew he was the reason Dick wasn't buckled. Each thunk Dick made, either hitting a window or door or the roof, seemed to echo is the billionaires ears.

And today was going to be such a good day.

The air was knocked out of Bruce as the airbag deployed, making him nearly lose consciousness for a second. He breathed in and out, forcing himself to repeat the process and did his best to pop the airbag, giving him room to breath. Richard lay panting on the back seat, landing in a less than comfortable position on his back with glass from the windshield and windows tearing into his skin in so many places, he didn't know whether or not it was possible. And it hurt.

It was the silent kind of pain, the kind that you didn't scream from and didn't whimper from. Dick felt as though if he makes one single move, one little adjustment, the pain would fully awaken and jolt through his body, so he stayed still.

"Dick... Kiddo, you okay?" Bruce asked from his position crushed behind the wheel. He attempted to turn his head to see at his ward, craning his neck but not seeing much more than the dented roof of the car.

"I'm... I don't know."

"Damn it... Dick, those guys that were chasing us are going to come get us. I... I need you to be brave."

"...Okay." Dick felt the blood begin to drip and cringed ever so slightly, from everywhere. Cringing was a bad idea, every little That silent pain was slipping away in way of a very real and painful ache.

"We'll get out of this, buddy, I promise." Eight men began to stumble down the slope to car.

It was too many cuts, none of them too large, but many enough to scar. It hurt too much. "I know Bruce, but," Richard gulped. "I'm hurt."

"Shit... What hurts?" Bruce asked and his face paled.

"I have a bunch of glass cuts and stuff." Dick replied carefully.

"Damn it... Damn it... damn it...!" Bruce muttered to himself. Why does shit like this happen when things were going to be so good?

"Should I be scared, Bruce? 'Cause I am."

Bruce couldn't lie. He never wanted Dick to be scared, he never wanted this stuff to happen. Not to Richard. But he couldn't lie. "Yeah, I... I'm scared too." Probably not what his ward needed to hear, but lies never worked on the kid. He was too smart for that.

They were interrupted by the men reaching the car.

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><p>The annoying buzzing sound in his ears wouldn't stop, it was repeated and relentless, a thorn in his side that kept him from returning to his deep sleep. His eyelids were too heavy to really open, and his limbs seemed to have the same immobile effect. It was really giving him no choice but to drift off, and he did.<p>

There was that sound again.

His eyes snapped open. Bruce Wayne only got up when he realised that buzzing sound echoing in his ears was people talking. His hands were tied behind his back, fastened tightly as if they were glued. Upon pulling at the restraint, he assumed it to be fishing wire.

He briefly tried to move his legs, both of them only twitching, though they weren't restrained. He tried to move them again, but they remained useless. Bruce concurred he must've taken quite the hit to the head on patrol, or something. His thoughts were still processing.

He was laying down, facing a dark and dirty looking wall, covered in either dried gore rust. He hoped the latter, but wouldn't be surprised if it was either.

"Hey Vic, what do we do when they wake up?" Bruce tried his hardest to focus in on the voice, making out the words only barely. He felt like he was nursing a morning hangover, but his rationality was still kicking in.

_'Don't let them know you're awake.'_

"We tell 'em the deal and lay them under." Replied another man, Vic, nonchalantly.

And with that, Bruce remembered.

There was a car accident.

They were run off the road.

Richard was hurt.

Today was going to be good, like a father-son day. Funny how that turned out.

When remembering his young ward, Bruce nearly jumped up and blew the charade. _'Where's Richard? If those bastards did so much as lay one hand on him, I'll kill them!'_

He steadied out his breathing and listened. He could see wispy shadows across the wall, dimly outlining three men. They didn't say anymore, but that wasn't what Bruce was listening for. Ever so faintly, was the quiet breathing. The billionaire had to strain his ears to hear it, but that was Richard. He couldn't have been more than a few feet away.

At least he was here, his Robin, here and breathing.

Bruce was going to continue to fake it, to pretend to still be asleep and try to conjure up a plan, but after only a moment it seemed as though Dick had other plans.

"Bruce?" He wheezed, voice still full of sleep.

_'Damn it kiddo.'_ "I'm here." He slowly turned around, now knowing pretending to sleep would be pointless. He winced, but was able to lay eyes on his scratched up ward.

"So are we." One man, Vic, if Bruce could remember the voice right, said. He walked towards them, bending down to their level with his other men close behind. One of them shouted for a man outside of the small cement building to come inside. He did, and the billionaire saw all of them armed, semi automatic and cold steel.

The four men walked over. "Hey Vic, you do the talken'." One said, and Vic nodded.

"Get up." A handgun rose, pointed at Bruce, daring him to do otherwise. Bruce tried, but it felt as though his limbs had turned to molasses and were weighed by cylinder blocks. Bruce recognised the feeling and could only hope Richard wasn't under the same spell.

"Feel that?" Vic asked. "That's the Tranqs, should keep a horse down for a couple hours and it'll keep you down till you're down under." Bruce hated to think of what down under was.

They didn't look like much, but Bruce could tell they knew what they were doing, and that was a problem.

"The kid is on something smaller, really just ta make 'em sleepy, but he won't be doing much either."

Bruce looked to his young ward, a few blood splotches staining his clothes and countless scratches among his arms and face, where the glass impaled. His cheeks were dirty and tear stained, and his hands were bound tightly behind his back. Yet, they shook with a paralyzing fear, but there was a glint in his eye, a defiant look on his face.

Bruce saw that look all the time when the two patrolled the city as Batman and Robin. The kid was being brave, but perhaps that was dangerous. Dick had little training in cases like this, where he was the victim, and being too brave can be fatal.

"It'll be okay, Bruce." He said, though it felt like a stab through the kidney for Bruce, who knew he should be the one comforting the other.

"A brave one, eh?" One man said, snickering to himself. Bruce swore he would beat that grin off the man's face.

"So, 'ere's the deal Mista Wayne." Vic started, as he tugged Dick up from the floor, purposely running his filthy hands over some of the dozens of cuts littering the kids arms. Richard bit his tongue to keep from crying out, to keep from showing weakness.

_"That's my boy.'_

The Man continued. "I'm going to hand ya a phone to who'eva ya like, just to prove you're still breathing. Then, you're going to hand it back." The man stopped for a brief moment, running his hands down Dick's arm, slowly, before moving the hand to the boy's confused and teary face.

It kept all of the restraint Bruce had not to lash out at him and tear him apart with his hands.

"Then, we'll bury ya and once we get one million, we dig one of the two of ya up, and after another one mill, we dig up the other and you can go live you're happy family life like you do when no one's lookin. We clear?" Vic pushed Dick back down to the ground and the boy landed roughly on his knees, muttering out a few words that would make Alfred faint if he heard.

Bruce ignored them, knowing that he, himself, was prone to use profanities.

"Clear?" Vic repeated. It was clear, but he didn't like it. This wasn't a man he'd want to let his kid within a block from, yet he was handling the job. Bruce nodded.

He was handed a phone, or more like him telling a man the number, and him holding it to his ear. He called Alfred, gave him the run down, minus a few details the Butler shouldn't have to stomach, and hung up.

They destroyed the phone with a bullet, the sound echoing through the small cement room like a voice to a cave, but Bruce barely flinched, his nerves turning to steel.

_'They better not hurt Richard.'_

Bruce can recall being dragged painfully, his limbs were not cooperating enough for him to walk outside, so one of the four men grabbed him by the foot and dragged him. It was embarrassing, and he couldn't even bare to think what Richard was thinking. Dick was thrown over on Vic's shoulder and carried him like a sack of potatoes, an unreadable expression on his face, possibly of fear or disbelief.

They had been in a small cement building, seemingly misplaced in some woods. Bruce had seen a fair amount of meth labs on his nightly patrols, and this little ran-shack building could easily pass as one.

Bruce was drag through dirt and small plants, through the woods, in the dark, a thick coat of mud collecting on his clothes. Of course, he couldn't see the stars from under the dense tree tops, so it could be any hour, but it felt late. And the most ridiculous thought occurred to him.

It was past Richard's bed time. It had to be past ten o'clock. Why that mattered now, he didn't know, but Dick was going to be grumpy tomorrow.

Bruce was going to be grumpy tomorrow, too, if there was a tomorrow. Things weren't going too hot right now. If only the drug would were off, if only he could move, he could break these shits in half for kidnapping them. But no, Bruce Wayne remained helpless and his ward the same. He hated that helpless feeling. He hated not being able to save his kid, not being able to save himself.

The six of them stopped, once they were out of the trees.

Richard was tossed to the ground, landing painfully in the overgrown grass and weeds. At least they could see the sky clearly now.

"You know the deal now, we bury ya and once we get one million in one account, we dig one of ya up, another million in another, we did up the other and you can both live right." One man told them again.

Bruce nodded. Buried alive. Buried. Alive. One of the worst ways to die and a situation you can't get out of, once you're in the ground. You're stuck in the coffin.

He sent a look to his ward, the most reassuring he could. "Stay strong." Only twenty yards away lay the graves. Two rough holes in the ground, about ten feet away from each other, and each barely wide and long enough to fit Bruce.

The men brought both of them to what could be their final resting place. He didn't want to think about it. Richard's only ten, far too young to be kidnapped, buried or threatened, and he's too young to go fighting crime as well, though he didn't act it. This shouldn't be happening to him.

It was a crude grave, but it was clear they had done this before. A coffin, old and wooded lay at the bottom, and looking over at Richard's own hole, he could see a box lying in it too. One of the men dropped down to open the coffin, the inside full of dirt and mostly black in the lighting.

"You got four hours of air if ya breath easy." Bruce pulled on his restraints again and sighed. This was it. That's all he could do. For all the power he had as Bruce Wayne and Batman, he couldn't do shit here.

He really hoped Alfred and the police get the money wired soon. He wasn't sure how long he could stay down there, and believe it or not, he didn't want to die and he didn't want Richard to die. He would lay down his life for the kid, easily, and though he needed to say it a lot more, he loved him.

He showed it in funny ways, but it was true. He felt a foot pressing into his back, trying to push him into the grave. "Dig him up first. Please, dig him up first."

Vic smirked. "Yeah, sure, and we'll have fun with 'em till we dig ya up, too."

Before the billionaire could make any threats, the floor against his back gave a sturdy shove, sending him into the whole and landing somewhat in the coffin, but with a little prodding, he fit. "Dig him up first!" He shouted up as he heard Richard hit the floor of his own coffin. He could swear he heard them snort. _'Bloody Bastards.'_

A small black object was thrown down and the coffin lid slammed shut. It hit him in the gut and rolled to the side.

_**"Bruce..."**_ It was faint and full of static. A tiny voice over the sound of soil covering the coffin.

He groaned and moved around to get more comfortable, which is quite hard to do with your hands tied behind your back and when in a tiny coffin when all you are doing is breathing in dust. "Richard?"

_**"Bruce, they're letting us talk through in a walky-talky. Can You hear me?"**_

More dirt covered the coffins, blocking out all of the outside world.

"Yeah..." He coughed. "I can." He thanked god for the walky-talky.

_**"I can't really move, Bruce. And there's other stuff in here and I can't breath and I'm scared and-!"**_ The sound of mellow cries chopped through the static.

"Richard, Relax. Don't exhaust your air supply." He commanded.

_**"I'm really scared and I can't breath."**_ Came in fuzzy and panicky reply.

"Alfred and the police are working to either pay them or find us right now, it'll be okay."

_**"You don't know that!"**_ And he didn't. Bruce Wayne had a feeling the two of them were going to die there, but he didn't want to tell Richard that. He wanted to protect him.

"Take deep breaths, you need to settle down." He knew now was the worst time to be Claustrophobic, such as Dick was.

_**"Bruce... I think there's a skeleton in here."**_

"What?" He heard rustling over the walkie-talkie.

_**"There's a skeleton in here."**_

And the situation just kept getting better and better.

_**"There is, I think I broke the skeleton. I'm, I'm scared, what do I do?"**_

"You need to calm down I can tell you are breathing to fast and struggling to much."

_**"I can't."**_

"You can."

Richard panted.

"Tell me, are you hurt?"

_**"...From the car crash, all the cuts stings. I can't breath. I can't move."**_

"Richard! Please settle down."

_**"..."**_ He heard his ward slowly start to panic, as any ten-year-old boy would in his place. Even the Boy wonder lost his cool.

"Richard." Bruce called again.

He heard crying from the other side. For the next few hours he heard nothing but static, no matter how many times he called his name.

For the first time in ten years Bruce Wayne cried. Silently, a mix of few tears and mostly swears.

* * *

><p>"We got one mill, boys, dig the big fella up." Three men picked up shovels.<p>

Bruce jerked back into reality at the sound of metal hitting and splintering wood. Dirt rained down and the lid opened slowly, letting in the only light he'd scene in hours. By default, Bruce pulled at his hands to see if they were still restricted and if the sedative had lost any of it's effect. Yes and yes.

_'We're safe, Alfred must've paid the money by now.'_ He breathed in fresh air and felt stress leave his shoulders.

"Ya need help out of there, too?" One man commented from above and jumped down. "Worry not, mista' Wayne. We'll pull ya out."

He growled at them as two pairs of hands yanked him out of the whole, tugging him to his knees on the edge.

The scene had barely changed from last time. Four men, it was dark, they were in a field and dirt was everywhere. "Where's Richard?"

"What's the matter man, missin' your toy already?" Vic taunted.

"Why isn't he here?!"

"Cause we only got one million in the bank right now." One of the usually silent men informed him.

"I told you to dig him up first!" Bruce fumed.

"And we almost did, but you wouldn't have liked it if we did."

Knowing fully well his ward could be dead, that he could've run out of air and suffocated, or the coffin caved in, Bruce snapped. He saw red. He thought murderous thoughts.

He pulled at his restraints till the wire dug into his skin and broke, freeing his hands, and with power no normal human possesses, he attacked. None of the men had times to reach their guns.

Bruce knocked one's shovel away and gave him an uppercut to the chin before throwing him at another. He picked up a shovel and whipped one across the side of the head with brutality few ever get to see. He kicked one of the men on the ground before jumping to Vic.

He saw the way that bastard handled his son earlier. He saw the look in his eyes. Vic got bumbled into the ground without remorse till he nearly stopped breathing. Bruce grabbed a shovel.

_'Please be okay Richard. I'd go some sort of mad if I lost you.' _The dirt was freshly disturbed, not easy to see in the pale moonlight but easy to feel underneath his feet. He took a deep breath. _'Please don't let me be too late.'_

He buried the shovel up to the hilt and lifted big chunks of dirt, like a machine, shovel full after shovel full. He worked pass his fatigue and the drug still present in his veins. The sedative had worn off, but it still felt like a family of needles have moved into his head and like someone tied bricks to his arms. Bruce will never admit to anyone just how long it took to dig his ward out, but it was much too long for his liking.

Finally, the shovel hit something solid, and Richard yelled from within the wooden box. His yells are incoherent, but meaningful.

He was alive. He wasn't too late. _'God, this was too close.'_ He used the shovel to pry open the lid and piles of soil slid inside. Richard slowly sat up, brushing dirt from himself and trying to stand.

Right next to him, sure enough, was the skeleton Richard had been talking about. The side of the skull bent in and cracked, and most of the other bones out of place and split in two. The sickening part was the bones were of a person that couldn't have been more than twelve at death, if that.

Richard refused to look at it, knowing he would only be sick. His father helped him to his feet, facing him away from the body.

"Dick..." He lifted the ten-year old out of the hole, pulling himself up afterwards despite the strain in his arms. He didn't know if that was the sedative or if he was really just that exhausted. _'Both.'_

Without a word, the boy latched himself to Bruce, ignoring the others clumps of mud and foul smell. Bruce wrapped one arm around Dick and patted his back as he steered them away from the graves and the skeleton and the now unconscious men that held them captive.

"Are you okay?" He asked his tear stricken ward.

His brave little soldier wiped at his cheeks, and put on an arrogant yet charming smile. "I'm covered in glass cuts, drugged up to the point where yellow is an emotion, scared beyond belief, and I think Alfred will be upset."

"Yeah," Bruce was able to pick up the sarcastic tone. "I just ruined a suit, my dignity has been torn in two, I wrecked a car today and I do believe I'm on some sort of horse sedative."

Dick giggled. "I'm okay..."

The billionaire smirked. "Then me too." They stood around awkwardly for a second, not knowing where to start another conversation, or what to do now. Dick kicked at the dirt absentmindedly, doing his best to forget all that just happened.

"I have to ask, Bruce, what was the surprise?" He looked up eagerly, big eyes showing excitement just at the thought of it.

Bruce sighed. _'why not tell him now?'_ "A puppy kiddo, we were... we were going to go get a puppy." Bruce reminded himself how this disaster was almost a good day.

Dick's eyes went wide. "Really?! You, you mean it? You'd really do that?"

"Yeah, I feel guilty about leaving you alone all day." Bruce admitted bluntly, how he states all his feelings.

"I'm not alone, I have Alfred and you come home at six." Dick tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.

"How often does Alfred, or me, play with you?" The billionaire almost didn't want to hear the answer, knowing the number would be painfully low and I would be his fault.

"I don't know but... I'm happy Bruce. I do wish we hung out more, 'cause, ya know..." Dick blushed and mumbled something under his breath.

He was becoming more like Bruce with admitting feelings every day. "Sorry buddy, didn't quite catch that."

"I said: You're like family and stuff and I love you." He rushed and then tried to pretend he never said it, but Bruce heard it. His heart gave a useless flop. The kid loved him. He said it. For a moment, Bruce didn't know hot to react. He ran a hand through his hair absentmindedly and shrugged. Why were emotions so hard?

"Yeah, yeah, you too."

"Let's go home." And so Bruce took his wards hand and pulled him in a random direction, knowing at some point they would reach a place with a phone to use. They would both need medical attention, a good nights sleep and Richard possibly a few months of therapy, but that didn't matter.

His ward loved him. He couldn't wait to tell Alfred.

"We're still going to get a puppy, right?"

_'Knew that was coming.' _"Don't see how I could say no."

"Just making sure."

* * *

><p><strong>I hope that wasn't to sappy. Sorry for this chapter for being so long, it grew into a monster really quickly...<strong>

**Please review and have a wonderful week. **


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